


Fulfillment

by yeaka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrimbor attempts to seduce Celegorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulfillment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s sore in too many places and acutely annoyed at the culprit—Curufin is little fun to spar with. He’s the only one _worth_ sparing with and one of few here worthy of true allegiance, but their unspoken bond doesn’t always protect Celegorm from Curufin’s cunning mind. When backed into a corner facing defeat, Curufin becomes a beast. Today, he feigned injury, doubled over in apparent pain, drawing, of course, Celegorm’s immediate concern—only for Curufin to elbow him savagely in the face and send him flying with a full-body attack.

He won, in the end, but not without considerable bruising. He’d thought they were, at this point in their lives, above such childish tactics. But he’s learned once again to put nothing past his darling little brother. He’s still irritated by the time he reaches his quarters, and he shoes willing servants away in favour of ripping his own armour off and tossing it to the floor. He waits until he’s alone, behind closed doors, to properly _fume_. He would spend his makeshift exile with no one else, and yet he often burns to wipe the smug look off Curufin’s face. Their family’s always been... complicated.

He imagines, after a brief rest, he might return to Curufin’s quarters. To engage in what new competition, he hasn’t yet decided. But _something_ to keep the game ever in motion.

Down to trousers and his tunic, fingers ready to untangle his braid, Celegorm wanders into his bedroom. He means only to sleep, but he makes it only one step through the doorway before he halts. He stares, having to quickly school the shock off his face, at what waits for him.

His beloved nephew, Celebrimbor, lies sprawled back amongst the pillows with the sheets and duvet neatly rolled to the foot of the mattress. Celebrimbor wears nothing but thin, silken robes, cinched around the waist but so otherwise loose that the sleeves dip down both shoulders to reveal an indecent amount of pale, creamy skin. The skirt’s swept aside, parted to show off his spread legs. He’s barely covered from thigh to mid-chest, the tips of his rosy nipples peeking over the fabric’s edge, showing more with each rise of his lithe chest. His dark hair falls in haphazard waves about his shoulders and the pillows. The lit candles about the room twist the debauched scene with a romantic edge. He looks like a courtesan, already half-ravaged.

And yet he has the decency to blush under Celegorm’s gaze. Celegorm can’t stop himself from guiltily indulging in the delectable sight. He’s also shamefully aware of just how much Celebrimbor looks like both his father and grandfather. Celegorm takes one step forward, then another, and as the proximity increases, so do the differences—there isn’t the same shrewdness in Celebrimbor’s eyes, but openness and a hue of desperation that neither Curufinwë would’ve ever dared betray.

When Celegorm reaches the bed, Celebrimbor asks quietly, “May I have the honour of warming my uncle’s bed?”

Celegorm answers dryly, “It looks as though you wish more than to warm it.”

Celebrimbor’s blush flares, staining his delicate cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. He lowers his eyes and parts his lips, only to sit up properly and duck his head. He murmurs nervously, “I... I will do anything my lord should like...”

Tempting. Far, far too tempting. With a sigh, Celegorm takes a seat on the side of the bed. “I am not your lord, Tyelpe.”

He wants to reach a hand out and take Celebrimbor’s chin, lift it, but he doesn’t need to; Celebrimbor looks up carefully through his curtain of hair. The desire in his eyes is obvious. Celegorm’s known for some time that his sweet nephew harboured such a crush, but he’d done his best to ignore it. Celebrimbor, while of age, is still very young, and the child of Celegorm’s favourite brother, no less. But he’s very, very beautiful, and difficult to resist, and Celegorm can’t quite seem to manage the words to send him away.

After a few minutes of enduring Celebrimbor’s hopeful stare, Celegorm forces himself to look away and mutters, “I just came from a trying match with your father. I confess I am somewhat sore.”

It’s meant to be a deterrent, but Celebrimbor quickly offers, “Perhaps I could massage you?” His eyes are instantly alight, bright and _pleading_. It would sound innocent enough, if Celebrimbor weren’t dressed in such flimsy attire and he weren’t so overtly eager. Celegorm rolls one stiff shoulder experimentally.

He doesn’t quite have the strength to deny Celebrimbor or his own interest. 

He pulls his tunic from over his head and tosses it needlessly aside, then turns to climb properly onto his own bed, Celebrimbor easily slipping out of the way. Celegorm pulls his golden braid away from his back as he settles down, head turned in the pillows. His bed is indeed warm where Celebrimbor laid, the mattress as blessedly soft as he needed. The mattress instantly shifts with Celebrimbor’s weight, and a second later, he’s straddling Celegorm’s thighs, sitting gently down. His hands stretch along Celegorm’s back, fingers spread across his shoulder blades, digging in just enough to be felt. Then they draw together, dragging hard along Celegorm’s tensed muscles. Celebrimbor returns to Celegorm’s spine, then spreads out again, and sets into kneading Celegorm’s flesh in soothing circles that leave Celegorm’s breath more ragged than before.

Celebrimbor is _very_ good. Celegorm should’ve known better than to allow the use of Celebrimbor’s hands: his greatest strength. He works Celegorm’s back as skillfully as he would the forge, every little touch lingering with great effect. He quickly defeats Celegorm’s pain, chasing off knots and relaxing every muscle he touches, until Celegorm feels wondrous, far more so than he did before the sparring much, more so than he has in a long time. He’s had servants and other offerings of massages since his coming to Nargothrond, but none have had his nephew’s talent. Nor was he willing to let his guard down around them.

Celebrimbor is close family, the only thing Celegorm can trust anymore, and beyond that, his devotion’s clear. Celegorm can feel his arousal, straining against too-thin robes to rub between Celegorm’s thighs, but Celebrimbor holds as still as he can seem to. He keeps his hands above the waistline of Celegorm’s trousers and keeps his attentions proper, doing a duty. For a long time, Celegorm lets him suffer so. 

Eventually, Celegorm can’t take it anymore. This would be enough to relax and slip, quite happily, into good dreams, but he can’t go there with Celebrimbor’s lust so close at hand. He can’t bring himself to send Celebrimbor away, either. So he closes his eyes, wishes he were a better person, and mutters, “You may use other things than your hands, if you wish.”

Celebrimbor’s fingers hesitate, his breath catching. Perhaps he doesn’t know what that means, what he’s been invited to do. Perhaps Celegorm misjudged, and he’s far too young for this after all. But then Celebrimbor leans tentatively forward, his crotch dragging up against the hump of Celegorm’s ass, hands shifting to brace himself in the bed. The open folds of his robes tickle Celegorm’s lower back. A soft, chaste kiss is placed at the nape of his neck, then lower down his spine. Then Celebrimbor opens his mouth, and he runs it straight down between Celegorm’s shoulder blades, wracking out a shiver. 

From there, the floodgates open. Celebrimbor litters Celegorm’s skin in kisses, nips at him with blunt teeth, and drags a greedy tongue in languid circles, his long hair draping down to Celegorm’s cheek. He can’t help twisting back to look. Celebrimbor’s eyelids flutter down, face burning red in clear _desire_ , eyebrows knit together as though he can hardly believe he’s been given such a gift, and he’s both reverent and terrified to have it taken away. He _worships_ Celegorm’s body, or as much as he can reach. He licks all the way down to Celegorm’s tailbone, spreads his teeth for a light bite at the dip in Celegorm’s spine, then kisses back up to moan into Celegorm’s neck, “You are so very _handsome_ , uncle.” It’s something Celegorm’s heard many times, but it’s never made him glow so much as he does now. He knows he’s made a mistake; now that he’s started, he’ll never be able to stop. 

He curses himself and reaches down, taking the waistband of his trousers and pushing them back. Celebrimbor bends to watch the movement, fluttering breath caught over Celegorm’s wet skin. “Uncle...”

“Touch what you want,” Celegorm growls. His own hands return to the sheets, digging in to keep him still. At least he hasn’t done the ravaging yet. But he _wants_ to.

Celebrimbor lets out the filthiest moan Celegorm’s ever heard. A flurry of kisses rain over his back, and Celebrimbor licks his way back down, pausing at the top of Celegorm’s ass to spread his mouth wide. He runs his tongue once between Celegorm’s crack, slow and strong, all the way to the bottom of the mattress where Celegorm’s balls wait. Celebrimbor kisses each one, then runs back up to nip at the left cheek, then the right. His hands return to use, first pressing Celegorm’s ass together, then spreading it apart, and Celebrimbor’s tongue goes faster than ever, tasting everything it can reach. The sensations are divine. Celegorm can’t help one fleeting thought: how will he ever face Curufin now? He’ll have to sit across from his darling little brother at tomorrow’s breakfast, knowing that Curufin’s precious child spent the night with his tongue buried in Celegorm’s ass. Worse yet, Celegorm will know he _loved_ it.

He’s always loved being worshipped. He lies still and lets Celebrimbor delight in his body, kissing him all over and licking him dry, biting just enough to catch Celegorm’s breath. When Celebrimbor’s mapped every bit of Celegorm’s ass, he wanders back down to lap away at Celegorm’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time and heartily sucking them. His noises are the dirtiest part of it—wanton mewling and desperate whimpering. Perhaps Celegorm should’ve known, seeing Celebrimbor’s passion at the forges, how much he would throw himself into bed. Yet it’s hard to believe just _how_ incredibly eager and filthy he is. It seems almost a shame to tear him away from a task he clearly loves so much. 

But Celegorm’s reached his limits, and he turns suddenly, lifting one leg high so as not to hit Celebrimbor’s head. He rolls right onto his back, Celebrimbor still between his legs and now staring up, the base of Celegorm’s hard cock visible over his trousers. The tip’s still trapped inside, but with a single tug, it bounces free. Celebrimbor goes cutely cross-eyed looking at it, then licks his lips and asks, voice trembling, “C... can I...?” His eyes are half-lidded, pupils widely blown. It looks like he’s never wanted anything so much in his life. 

He looks so _ripe_ for the taking. Celegorm brings his hands up to fold behind his head, half to prop him up for a good look, and half to keep himself from grabbing Celebrimbor by the hair and choking him on Celegorm’s cock. He nods his head benevolently. 

Celebrimbor surges forward all at once. He opens his mouth and tilts as he goes, so he can drag his mouth up from base to tip, and he opens wider at the top to take the head into his mouth. He closes tight and drags himself off, then kisses the veiled peak and nuzzles into it, shivering in clear delight as it slides along his face. At first, he showers Celegorm’s shaft in licks and hearty kisses, but then he brings one hand to peel back the foreskin and swirl his tongue along the top. Every one of his touches feels insanely _good_ , but what makes it so mind-blowing is the adoration in his eyes. Suddenly, Celegorm has no idea how he resisted for so long. Surely even Curufin would understand, if he could only see how desperate Celebrimbor is for Celegorm’s cock. 

When Celebrimbor first opens and slides himself down Celegorm’s shaft, swallowing bit by bit, he stops halfway, struggling to breathe, his mouth fluctuating like he’s going to gag. Celegorm wonders if it’s his first time, but then he seems to take hold of himself and draws mostly off, only to press down again, taking a little more. He bobs up and down and starts to suck, hollowing out his cheeks and laving his tongue along the bottom—so incredibly delightful that Celegorm fears he’ll finish shamefully fast. By the time Celebrimbor’s made his way down to the base, he’s a mess, his lips covered in his own saliva and precum dribbling down his chin. He keeps going, fucking himself hard on Celegorm’s cock, just as merciless as Celegorm would be if he allowed himself to reach down and guide Celebrimbor by the hair. He doesn’t need to. Celebrimbor spares nothing. He sucks and swallows and squeezes his tight throat around his uncle’s shaft, heedless of the sick squelching noises and his own muffled moans. His hands splay across Celegorm’s thighs, holding on tight, though Celegorm has enough experience not to buck up—Celebrimbor does fine on his own. 

Better than fine. Celegorm can feel himself growing close, and with tremendous effort, he hisses, “Stop.”

Celebrimbor’s eyes dart out, face still impaled, lips stretched wide. He looks as though he’s been struck. But he’s a good boy, and he slides off, only to give one last, tentative lick to the head before he withdraws. He lays his cheek on Celegorm’s thigh, body twisted to remain on the bed. He looks a wreck, but a beautiful one. Celegorm wouldn’t be surprised to learn every last elf in Nargothrond lusted after this pretty creature, and yet he slinks into his own uncle’s quarters and _begs_ to be taken.

“Sit up,” Celegorm commands, voice huskier than he’d like. He prefers to remain in control as long as possible, but Celebrimbor robs him of that. Celebrimbor hurries to obey, rising up between Celegorm’s legs with his own knees drawn together, hands resting on his lap like a bowing servant. Now his robes have fallen so deeply open that his rosy nipples are both visible, already pebbled, either from exposure to the night air or arousal. The candlelight washes much of his skin golden, and Celegorm spares a moment to eye it before he hisses, “Disrobe—if you are going to present yourself as a toy to be played with, you should do it right.”

Celegorm subserviently lowers his head and answers, “Yes, uncle.”

He pulls the sash from his waist free right away, then crosses his arms across his chest to take hold of either sleeve, tearing them lower, showing off more and more of his delectable body. At his waist, he lifts forward, moving onto hands and knees, and ducking one arm beneath him to push it all away. His robes go tumbling over the edge of the bed, and he turns as if to tend to it, but Celegorm orders, “Leave them.” Celebrimbor tucks a few strands of dark hair behind his ear and turns back to face Celegorm, perched elegantly on folded legs. His cock, long and pink, rises up towards his stomach, but he does a good job of doing nothing to ease its strain. Celegorm takes a moment to eye it, to eye all of Celebrimbor, still soft and youthful, but lengthy, lithe and nicely developed, ready for harvesting. Celebrimbor meets Celegorm’s gaze for a few seconds, then lowers his, submissively waiting for what he so clearly wants.

Celegorm asks, “How prepared did you come?” He means it in one specific way, and he can see from the sudden flash of sheer excitement across Celebrimbor’s eyes that he knows it. 

He answers breathily, “Completely.” 

“Then show me what you offer.”

A great shiver runs from the top of Celebrimbor’s slender shoulders down to his tender thighs. He crawls forward as soon as it’s passed, moving to straddle Celegorm’s crotch, and he rises up on his knees, one hand lifting up his cock and the other disappearing between his legs. His face screws up—he must be testing his hole again, checking if whatever lubrication he used still remains and stretching himself open—he’s likely unprepared for Celegorm’s girth. Celegorm doesn’t rush him. When he’s ready, he lowers himself slowly, until Celegorm’s tip brushes over Celebrimbor’s dripping entrance. Celebrimbor’s hands fall to Celegorm’s stomach. 

Then he drops himself down, thighs tensing as he forces himself to take it, swallowing Celegorm up all at once. Celegorm cries out in surprise and utter bliss, while Celebrimbor tosses his head back and _screams_. Celegorm had meant not to touch, to let Celebrimbor make a pretty show of himself, but it’s impossible—Celegorm’s hands dart out to fist in Celebrimbor’s plush thighs. Celebrimbor is indeed wet, his channel slick and parted, but it’s still incredibly _tight_ and broiling hot. His walls are velvet soft, nearly convulsing around Celegorm’s shaft. Celegorm has to grit his teeth to stop his cries, and Celebrimbor goes on gasping, one hand darting to hold against his mouth. Clearly, he’s been over-confident, like his father, and dove too keenly into danger. But like his father, he braves through, lifts himself up with a ragged sob, only to shove down again, and Celegorm hisses as sheer _pleasure_ races through him. 

Celegorm does nothing to guide Celebrimbor; he does it all on his own. He pushes up when he can, then moves back down, taking Celegorm entirely on each thrust. Every one becomes faster, harder, until he’s bouncing wildly up and down on Celegorm’s cock, his tight ass squeezing along the way. His cock bounces with him, but he makes no move to touch it, and Celegorm doesn’t either—he can see just how much Celebrimbor’s already drowning in sensation, and Celegorm has no wish to let him end it early. Instead, he valiantly focuses on pleasuring his lover, fucking himself hard in the process. The bed creaks with the force. It rattles against the wall, and Celegorm has to fight to restrain himself—he fears if he tossed up like he wants to, he’d throw Celebrimbor right off with his ardor. He has no idea how he went this long. He should’ve ravished this pretty thing the moment he first had a chance. He should’ve snuck right into Curufin’s quarters and pounded his gorgeous nephew right into his brother’s bed. He could’ve done it, too. No one can offer what a son of Fëanor can. Celebrimbor clearly knows it. For all his disagreements with his father and even with Celegorm, he’ll always drop to his knees the second Celegorm orders him too, and now he rides Celegorm’s cock like it’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s _Celegorm’s_ now, that’s plain enough. He’ll come back again and again for this, and Celegorm won’t be fool enough to send him away. 

For as long as Celegorm can stand it, he lets Celebrimbor do all the work, admiring the perfect sight, drinking in the lewd sounds and the growing smell of sex. Then Celegorm needs to do _something_ , and he lunges up so fiercely that Celebrimbor squeaks in surprise. Celegorm grabs him and spins him, rolling them both over, slamming Celebrimbor down into the mattress while Celegorm lands atop him, cock still buried deep inside him. His legs are bent into the air, spread around Celegorm’s body, and Celegorm keeps them there. He shoves Celebrimbor hard into the bed, grinds in and pulls back, repeats it at a different angle, then again, until Celebrimbor shrieks in pleasure. Then Celegorm knows he’s found the right spot, and he pounds brutally into it. He keeps himself up on elbows and knees and tangles his fingers in Celebrimbor’s hair, tugging it more than he means. He knows where Celebrimbor’s dirty mouth has been, but he can’t stop himself from slamming down anyway. He thrusts his tongue right down Celebrimbor’s throat while his fucks Celebrimbor’s tight ass, and Celebrimbor’s arms jump to encircle his shoulders. Celebrimbor’s mouth tastes of nothing but stale saliva. Celegorm devours it. He steals all of Celebrimbor’s air while he fucks his little nephew hard, and all Celebrimbor can do is writhe and take it. 

It’s over too soon. Celebrimbor’s wracked with tremors, and he cries into Celegorm’s mouth, cock exploding without even being touched. His release splatters Celegorm’s chest, but he keeps going, encouraged by the way Celebrimbor’s ass flutters with it. Celegorm fucks Celebrimbor over and over, until his own release follows, filling Celebrimbor up with it and covering Celebrimbor’s weak cries with his own roar. Celebrimbor looks devastatingly _beautiful_ in the ends of his orgasm, flushed and lust-ruined. It drives Celegorm to his own end, which he pounds out to the last drop.

Even when he’s finished, he stays atop Celebrimbor’s trembling body, slick with sweat and glistening in the candlelight. Celegorm knows he enjoyed that far, far more than he should. 

When he pulls out, Celebrimbor winces. Celegorm still hovers there, panting, though not as much as Celebrimbor, and simply admires all of Celebrimbor’s loveliness, laid bare for him. Finally, he bends forward to place a chaste kiss to Celebrimbor’s forehead.

Then he rolls off, onto his back, and wonders where in the world all that energy came from. Trust Curufin’s line to draw such fury out of him. He wonders briefly if this counts as beating Curufin, then admonishes himself for such crude thinking. If anything, he now owes a deep apology. 

Still, he concedes, “You may warm my bed.” He could say nothing else at this point.

Celebrimbor sidles up to him at once, beaming delightedly. Throwing an arm across him, Celebrimbor rests on the crook of his shoulder and sighs, “You were just as amazing as I knew you would be.” Celegorm snorts but takes the compliment. 

He lifts one tired hand to fondly pet through Celebrimbor’s hair. In truth, Celebrimbor was better than he expected. Dangerously so. He means to admit that this need not be a one-time arrangement, but Celebrimbor’s already closed his eyes, and Celegorm realizes that he’s already fallen asleep.

He still has much to learn, then. Celegorm can’t help his grin; stamina will have to be their first lesson, and Celegorm’s sure he’ll enjoy teaching it.


End file.
